


Little Star, How Beautifully You Crawl

by obaewankenope (rexthranduil)



Series: Crawl Lightbringer, Crawl [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Crowley is Lightbringer, Crowley needs hugs but he's not getting them where he is, God's plan is ineffable, Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Lucifer is abusive, M/M, Possessive Lucifer, Rape/Non-con Elements, Series, Trueform Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 15:51:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20438579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rexthranduil/pseuds/obaewankenope
Summary: The Lightbringer is not kind or gentle, it is not merciful or loving, but neither is it cruel or vicious, hateful or violent. The Lightbringer is a torch, a bright little thing with all the potential of light in a void, and it is a being She created knowing it would suffer.For She knows that suffering makes a being strong if it can endure. And the Lightbringer needs to be strong. Strong enough to do what must be done when it needs to be done.





	Little Star, How Beautifully You Crawl

**Author's Note:**

> Ace Omens has a nsfw channel that's so angsty it's called #dark-omens and I may have encouraged some of us there to write Lucifer/Crowley fic. Obviously I have to contribute more. So here's the first part of what is gonna be a series of angst angst and more angst. Fair warning, it's dark and creepy and Lucifer is an abusive abuser and I'm drawing from real life personal experience for writing this so do beware of that.

In the beginning there was nothing. No, not nothing. There was _absence_. She looked upon this and decided that substance was needed. The first formed things were beautiful echoes of Herself. All that She creates is an echo of Herself but these were bright and powerful echoes. She called them angels. At first there were only a few of them; the concept of numbers was invented the day She began creating. One of the oldest and most beautiful was given a special title by Herself—Lightbringer; one who illuminates. 

Humanity, in the years after its creation, has confused the meaning of Lightbringer, Morningstar, and Lucifer as being synonymous with the same being. This is incorrect. The true Devil was once a bright angel, one of the oldest, the most wiley, the most manipulatively strong, but the Lightbringer is _not_ the Devil. The Lightbringer is the one who illuminates even the darkest of places.

It is only unfortunate for the Lightbringer that it illuminates best when in the depths of a place lacking Her presence. 

It is more unfortunate for the Lightbringer that it is weakened by a Fall it never intended to experience and cannot fight off one who fell first and has recovered the most. 

The Lightbringer is not kind or gentle, it is not merciful or loving, but neither is it cruel or vicious, hateful or violent. The Lightbringer is a torch, a bright little thing with all the potential of light in a void, and it is a being She created _knowing_ it would suffer. 

For She knows that suffering makes a being strong if it can endure. And the Lightbringer needs to be strong. Strong enough to do what _must_ be done when it _needs_ to be done. 

At this exact moment in time however, the Lightbringer knows only pain and the agony of burned wings, writhing on the unforgiving, rocky ground of the pit pitifully. Among the other fallen the Lightbringer is indistinguishable and yet is obvious nonetheless. A rarity among commonalities that pretends to be common. 

He sees it. He knows it. And thus he decides to claim it.

"You're a pretty little thing darling," intones the First of the Fallen, newly formed body humanlike so as to make a mockery of Her newest creation. Fingers trail through the essence of the Lightbringer that lies shivering on the rockery basin all Fallen crawl onto in the end. The shimmering fluidity of grace, torn and burnt by a free-fall from the heavens, recoils from His touch and the First Fallen smirks with his newly formed mouth. "So sensitive. All that pain and here you are, pulling away from kindness. Do you prefer the pain little Lightbringer? Does it hurt less than kindness after She cast you out as well?" 

Lucifer tilts his head. "Well then," he says, "let me give you what you desire."

Angels were made to sing Her praises. They have voices loud and booming, that travel across space and time and reality when required by Her. The Fallen had screamed as they fell, some more, some less, but the screams are still heard today in the echoes of rockslides and thunderstorms, tsunamis and eruptions. They are in the cosmic storms that rage across the space of the universe. Everlasting and eternal. 

The screams of the Lightbringer are loudest of all. For there is more in the screams of the Lightbringer than pain. There is confusion, fear, anger, grief. The moment Lucifer grasps that essence, bright and aching and hurt, there is terror in the screams of the Lightbringer. Terror that She will know and grieve for. Terror She hoped it would not know. But what is done is done and so She must suffer the pain of failing to protect a child while Lucifer tears and sunders anew the wounds of the Lightbringer. 

"You did ask for this, little star," Lucifer croons even as he digs deeper, tearing as he forces in to the heart of the Lightbringer. It writhes beneath him, unable to escape but trying desperately, and the sight makes Lucifer feel powerful. He is strong here. He is in control. This is what He can do here. This is His right. She cannot stop Him here. She has abandoned all of them and they will only know Him from now on. "Look at you, crawling in the dirt, so desperate and afraid. I'm showing you kindness darling. This is kinder than She has been."

The Lightbringer grows weaker the longer Lucifer holds it, pins it, wraps himself inside it and claims every celestial aspect that the Lightbringer has clung to as it fell. So resilient it is, Lucifer determines, for even as it weakens, the Lightbringer still does not give up. All through it Lucifer feels and hears in the screams of the Lightbringer asking Why Why Why Why the delicious intoxicating power of being the one to inflict suffering rather than the one to experience it. There is power in being the arbiter of another beings pain and Lucifer embraces that power, lets it twist what may have been true kindness in his core into vicious possessiveness, spiteful controlling desire, and revels in it. 

She intended the Lightbringer to be illuminatory, to reveal hidden things but this is one thing She did not think would be revealed like this. She had assumed it would be different, less… Less what She witnesses. Free will may be given to all, even Her angels, but this is choice denied one She created to reveal it in the first place.

"You are such a crawly little thing, so difficult to pin down," Lucifer comments, amused and cruel. "The name you had before—the one She gave you—it doesn't fit down here. But I can give you a new name, little star. You seem so at home in the dirt right now, so let me name you Crawley and give you the form most suited to moving through the dirt." Lucifer laughs. "Any form will do for you, I own you after all and I shan't ever let you go."

This is the moment that the Lightbringer becomes less than it ought to be. Sullied and stained, marked in a permanent way that will forever change it but cannot destroy it. This is the moment that will shape a future She sees and plans for. This is when Crawley the demon is born, clawing and screaming in agony and terror, the First Fallen consuming and subsuming him until the bright light is spluttering and weak, hidden beneath layers of darkness like poison leaving the Lightbringer hollowed out worse than She ever did. 

"You suit this form, darling," says Lucifer, stroking newly formed scales, flesh and muscle and physicality, with soft fingers, no claws in sight. "My little star, a serpent just perfect for the garden. You'll do my bidding _wonderfully_, won't you darling? Because if you please me, I'll be kind and gentle. But if you fail me… I shall have to be cruel and hurt you. I don't want to hurt you my darling Crawley. You're too beautiful to hurt, but I will. I will if I have to."

"I'll do whatever you asssk of me," Crawley speaks for the first time, voice cracked and rough and new. There is desperation and fear in the voice of the serpent, newly named, and Lucifer smiles wider for it. 

"I know." The little star won't ever disobey him, won't ever refuse him. It cannot. Lucifer won't allow it. "I know."

But what Lucifer does not know is that time and distance can do wonders for a damaged being. And kindness from one being can change the course of any plan based on suffering and pain. It's all ineffable in the end, but this- this not so much. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos sustain me just as much as angst and suffering 😂


End file.
